


pink (it's my new obsession)

by nextstopparis



Series: honey, i love you [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:13:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25457560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nextstopparis/pseuds/nextstopparis
Summary: In London the seasons seemed to bleed into each other, and so the weather always looked just about the same: dreary, grey and wet.
Relationships: Gwen/Morgana (Merlin)
Series: honey, i love you [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1843912
Comments: 8
Kudos: 33





	pink (it's my new obsession)

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this is my first fanfic in a very long time so...please be gentle. it is based off the prompt: _"for you, darling, I would collect every cherry blossom in Japan - no - in the world."_
> 
> anyways, s1&2!morgwen own my whole entire heart. I hope you enjoy (or at least don't find reading it a complete waste of time)!

Spring was slow-coming that year. Although, really, in London the seasons seemed to bleed into each other, and so the weather always looked just about the same: dreary, grey and wet.

Tucked away in their flat, cuddled together while it was storming outside, was already enough to help her forget the world; forget everything but Morgana and her seemingly endless warmth. Raindrops streaked the windows, and as she rested her head on Morgana’s lap, Gwen took a moment to admire how the lights they caught from the city below looked something akin to fairy lights. A small smile stretched across her lips as she thought -  fleetingly, slightly whimsically - about how much it reminded her of what she once imagined magic to be like.

In their tireless efforts to find a destination - and it really was tireless, because Morgana would not be satisfied with anything less than perfect - Gwen had started feeling a little more overwhelmed than excited. It wasn’t that she wasn’t excited, though, because she was. There was nothing better than spending time with Morgana, nothing that made her feel so completely content and happy, but-well. With every destination they came across, Gwen found herself wanting to go; wanting to see her fiancée - or, well, by then her wife (her  _ wife! _ ) - in every scenery, adorned by every angle the sun shone in, for the rest of their lives. The problem was that honeymoons, unfortunately, did not work that way, and so only one choice could be made. It was really all a bit frustrating, choosing one from a thousand. 

“Let’s go somewhere with lots of flowers, colourful ones,” Gwen heard herself say, not looking away from the window. It wasn’t until the sentence had fully left her that she realized how much she did, truly want it. 

London was great, it was lovely and loud and alive. All of their friends were there, and most of their family, as well. It was home. The city was, however, almost sickeningly dull grey most of the time, and Gwen had had enough. 

Morgana hadn’t said anything yet, so she tore her gaze away from the offending sight of the weather outside the window and tilted her head to look into her fiancée’s bright green eyes, riddled with confusion and fondness. 

Morgana had stopped mindlessly playing with her hair, her right pointer finger motionless as it was encircled by one strand of Gwen’s soft curls. Mourning the loss of contact quietly, Gwen sat up, facing Morgana as she kneeled beside her on the couch. A smile - albeit a still slightly confused one - was blooming across Morgana’s face, and another had already taken over most of Gwen’s. She tucked her hands under her knees and felt like a child, giddy with excitement at the prospect of being somewhere full of colour, away from all this grey they’d, unfortunately, become accustomed to. Colour suited Morgana, just like everything else seemed to.

“Of course, love. Any ideas as to what colours you’d like to be surrounded by?” 

“This has to be a joint effort, Morgana, it is  _ our  _ honeymoon. You have to like the colours, too.”

Warm light from the kitchen lit up half of Morgana’s face as mirth danced behind her, slightly tired, eyes. 

“Ah, but see, I will love any colour you choose, so whatever you say I automatically agree with.” A snort escaped Gwen, and she lifted her eyebrow in obvious doubt. In return, her fiancée - she really will never get used to that - jutted her chin out, daring Gwen to call her out . She was happy to take the challenge

“Oh, really? And what if I’ve suddenly found interest in...in...some horrid neon orange, then? What if I wanted to go flower picking and fill the rest of our lives with bright, neon orange flowers? You’d be okay with facing that colour every day for the sake of our honeymoon, I take it?” Her voice was laced with laughter, the giddy smile now replaced with an ever-growing teasing one. She thought she saw Morgana’s eye twitch for a second, but silently applauded her ability to remain otherwise unmoved.

“Gwen, of course. If—” she swallowed as if keeping down bile “--If neon orange is the colour of flower you want to keep and remember from our honeymoon, and make into the symbol of our love, then neon orange flowers it shall be.” This was, of course, a battle of wills. Gwen wondered how much she could push it—then wondered if it was even worth a try. Her fiancée was very lovely and almost equally very stubborn, and Gwen loved her to pieces for it. If Morgana had decided that she would do whatever Gwen insisted, then Gwen was unlikely to change her mind. She allowed herself a moment to bask in the familiar, warm feeling of her heart swelling with an inexplicable tenderness.

“Well, alright, perhaps not such a horrible colour,” they both giggled, and Gwen bit her lip, “what about pink, then? What if I wanted to litter our flat with pink flowers everywhere, hmm? Still interested in not contributing?” 

Unfortunately, that did not have the intended effect of deterring Morgana. Actually, it seemed like she’d broken her fiancée before they were wed. Morgana was beaming at her, now.

“I would shower you in pink, Gwen, if you wished it. In fact,  _ f _ or you, darling, I would collect every cherry blossom in Japan - no - the world to make sure you were never short of the colour.” Morgana had taken to caressing her face now, the resolution no longer visible, face only sincere, and Gwen wondered if she could burst from possessing this much love for someone.

“Oh—oh, no. I mean, I know you’re not exactly the biggest fan of the colour, Morgana, and—oh, dear. I was only joking, of course, I—” Morgana beamed as her fiancée blushed sweetly, cutting herself off. “—Oh, bollocks, I thought I’d gotten over that,” Morgana allowed herself a fleeting glance at Gwen’s bitten lip, still unable to stifle her smile. 

“I love  _ you _ , Gwen, and if pink is what you need to get away from the dreaded grey—if it’s what will make you happiest, well then I don’t know what mean about me not being the biggest fan, because it’s my favourite colour.” There was, also, just the fact that Gwen looked divine in pink - of course, she looked beautiful in whatever (every shade of orange, included) but just... _ pink _ \- and so Morgana would be, slightly, doing this for herself, too. 

Letting out a breath, Gwen leans in for a soft kiss, and then another, and once more. She lets herself marvel, for a moment, about how she could spend an eternity surrounded by dull grey, or neon orange, or whatever other colour, so long as Morgana would be with her.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I hope no one got offended by me blatantly stereotyping London weather, or the hate towards neon orange... (sorry!)
> 
> welp, thanks for reading :)


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